


Nanda Parbat Honeymoon Suite

by SuperSillyAndDorky06



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: And preview of Olicity Sex, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M, Gen, Married Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Nanda Parbat, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sweet, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:25:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperSillyAndDorky06/pseuds/SuperSillyAndDorky06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Felicity have their wedding night in Nanda Parbat.<br/>Based on the CW Sacrifice- Look Ahead promo. Olicity sex. Finally.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nanda Parbat Honeymoon Suite

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was writing my chapter for The Phoenix when the promo hit and my brain short circuited. Apologies.  
> This was floating in my head for long hours so I decided to just give it to you. Olicity married sex. Finally.
> 
> Based on this post on Tumblr :  
> http://supersillyanddorky06.tumblr.com/post/115383753413/what-if-this-is-their-wedding-night-i-know-its 
> 
> Any mistakes are mine.
> 
> Enjoy! Drop me a line to know what you thought.
> 
> Happy reading!!!!

She could not remember the number of times she had dreamed about her wedding but this one took the cake. It had been so surreal she wouldn't have been surprised if she had woken up in her bed with a hysterical laugh.

But she hadn't. Instead, she had gotten married. To the Heir to the Demon. Al-Saheem. The Arrow.

So many names. But one man.

He was still, despite everything, just Oliver to her. Just Oliver. Her partner, her friend, her love.

Ra's Al-Ghul was one romantic son of a bitch, that was for sure. Why else would he have insisted that Oliver wed before being branded by the League? His logic had been simple. The next Demon's Head needed a legitimate heir and since he was such a believer of free will and stuff (not!) he had offered Oliver a choice for his Demoness. Which had been her. And in all the rush, what a ceremony it had been. She had been in her old jeans and jacket and Oliver in his trademark button up shirt. They hadn't even gotten the rings. Just said their vows and bam! She had become the Demoness with the highest IQ the League had ever seen. And that term would never not creep her out.

What was creepier, though, was the way trained assassins, who could snap her like a twig, bowed their heads respectfully to her like she had done something miraculous (and she had married Oliver. That was a miracle in itself. The man was _not_ easy to live with) as she walked down the corridor like an ant lost in grass, towards the room Oliver had been given, which was now theirs. And she didn't even know where it was.

But, she wasn't afraid. Or tense, about the whole marry-or-die thing. Everything was something-or-die these days with them. She sighed. They were friends before anything else, and the situation had demanded Oliver to make a choice and Felicity had just stayed exactly where she always was, by his side. They would figure it out. And they needed to install WiFi here if she was staying for more than two days. 

The stone corridor ended and there was just a big, wooden door at the end of it. The fire torches lit up the way as she took a few hesitant steps to the door, not sure if this was the room. She definitely did not want to end up opening bloody Ghul's room. Or even Nyssa's. Or the million and one assassins that lived here. She gulped and turned the knob, slowly peeking inside, her heart hammering in her chest. Only craning her neck first, her gaze zeroed in on the man sitting on the ottoman, his hand covering his mouth as he was lost in thought. 

She exhaled in relief and entered slowly, shutting the door behind her and looking around the room. Boy, did interior designers bless this place or something? It looked like something straight out of Aladdin, with the red silk and velvet cushions, the gazillion candles lighting up the space in a warm, soft glow, the huge maroon canopy above the wrought iron bed. Wow. This was a fairy tale. And Ra's Al-Ghul definitely watched Arabian Nights. Not a concept she was comfortable with.

Moving closer to where Oliver sat, she spoke, "Are you okay?"

His hand moved away from his face, his eyes, blue, intense eyes, examining her. He didn't say anything. Felicity sighed.

"Oliver, you need to stop blaming yourself for this. It was my choice," she said firmly, looking straight into his eyes. Which was why she could see the sudden burst of hatred that flashed across his face and left faster than Barry could run. 

"It was my choice, Felicity," his gravelly voice spoke. "I didn't want to trap you like this."

Felicity called for calm. Rash urges like smacking him upside down the head won't help the situation. "I am not trapped, Oliver. Do you regret marrying me?"

His gaze flickered to her and held it. "No."

She smiled slightly, waiting him out. He looked down, took a deep breath before looking back at her again. "We had to come here and I had to take Ra's up on his offer. Everything seems to be falling apart but I can't help but feel that everything that has happened till now, the island, my return, the team, the League, it was all building up to this. This moment, right here."

It was impossible not to understand his meaning. Felicity's heart clenched. The heat swirling just underneath his gaze was doing something to her, like when he was on the salmon ladder. It was turning her on. But they needed to talk first, honestly, like they hadn't before. 

She took another step, running his fingers through his hair as he remained seated, his eyes watchful on her. "Oliver, I told you on the plane, that you would always be my choice. But you haven't chosen me, us, for so long."

His eyes closed on regret. "I am so..."

She interrupted, scratching his ear. "Don't apologize, Oliver. I know you are sorry. But I'm not saying this because of that. I'm saying this because we are partners, in every sense of the word, and we are stronger together. So whatever is happening tomorrow on, we take it together, okay?"

He leaned his head into her palm, nodding. She swallowed. "And also, this is our wedding night."

Oliver's eyes flew open, his gaze colliding with hers. She looked down at the blue orbs as he suddenly got to his feet. This time, her head tilted back, neck craning, feeling his warm breath on her face. 

His right hand came up, palm cupping her cheek now, then fingers brushing over the soft skin, mapping her face, his eyes conveying his longing. A sudden burst of shyness overwhelmed her, making her look down at his throat instead of at him. The realization that this beautiful, broken man was her husband, filled her heart with something beyond expression. His hand stopped at her glasses, caressing the frame, before his other hand joined and took it off, slowly removing the barrier , stripping her of her own mask. The thought made her gaze flicker up at him, her affection bounding inside her, her vulnerability only evident with him. just him.

With a sudden explosion of courage, she put her hands on his dark collar, slowly fisting them as she went on her toes, holding his gaze, and dropped a soft kiss on his chin. His stubble scraped across her soft lips, the sensation shooting down to her toes, curling them slightly in her boots. They held their eyes on each other, breathing in and out in sync, the undercurrent of need wrapping itself around them. She could see his pupils dilating, his eyes darkening with every breath before a rough noise escaped his throat and his mouth swooped down on hers, nipping her lip softly, and then soothing it with his tongue. 

She pulled on his collar, the need to get him out of his shirt and expose that glorious chest, which she had seen very little of in the past few months, weakening her. She opened her mouth to him, like she had opened her heart, and pulled on the buttons, ripping open the shirt. He stopped and pulled back, in surprise at her aggression or boldness, she didn't know and didn't care. She finally had her hands on the wide expanse of marred skin, every scar and mottled bruise her own muse. 

"Felicity," Oliver's breathless voice muted the fire slightly, letting her realize that she wanted to savor this moment, this culmination of what had been building up since he had come to her with a broken laptop. 

Oliver's hands slowly removed the jacket, just taking in her face, his eyes never leaving it as his hands felt the skin on her body for the first time in too long. His touch. Only his touch. 

He grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up slowly like he too was savoring the expanse on skin revealed to his gaze for the first time. She raised her arms, assisting him, as he finally removed the garment, leaving her in her least favorite bra. Not that it seemed to matter to him as his eyes devoured her body and returned to hers, the uncertainty in them hitting her like a train. Did he still think she didn't want to be loved by him? Was the way she had ripped off his shirt no hint to him? Then she felt like face-palming. How could she have forgotten how obtuse he was? 

Mentally shaking her thoughts, she looked at him as he waited for her to say something. And for once in her life, she didn't. Right now, she had to show him, let him show her, that she wanted this. She had always wanted this. Words could come later. 

Keeping her eyes right on his heartbreakingly uncertain ones, she took a hold of both his hands and raised them right to her bra-clad breasts, letting him feel her hard nipples, giving him the permission to just do. She had never seen him look so surprised twice in only a few minutes. His fingers pinched her nipples, hands squeezing her breasts as her breath stuttered. She did a mental fist pump, whispering softly, "Now, will you continue?"

Before she could blink, he was all around her, lifting her with one hand on her thigh in a display of strength that only aroused her like fuck, his other hand covering her entire lower back, mating his mouth with hers. The difference in their sizes as she wrapped her arms around his neck became so evident to her, her breasts pressing into his shoulders, her body light in his arms.

She felt the soft velvet on her back, getting horizontal with him finally, and wrapping her legs around his waist. His mouth left hers, peppering kisses on her face, going south to her neck and shoulder, biting and licking every space of skin he could find. He had always loved her shoulders. And she loved his body too. With a slight smile, she gripped his hips with her legs and twisted in a move Diggle had taught her to fight off an assailant, flipping him onto his back as she grinned down at him. "I've always wanted to try that with you."

With a small tilt of his lips, he asked, "Any other moves you want to warn me about?"

In answer, she smirked, settling on his hips as she straddled him. She heard his breath hitch as her hands roamed his chest, caressing the scars that were his demons like they were her temple, from his mother's bullet wound to Ra's' sword. She knew each scar he had gotten since he met her, each scar that she knew like she knew her codes. Oliver's hands settled low on her hips as she moved slowly, his fingers on her ass, his thumb rubbing her pelvic bone. The liquid fire in her belly was coiling tighter and tighter and she was done with the foreplay. Moving her arms behind her, she flicked her bra open and tossed it aside, aroused beyond belief by the simple tightening of his grip and the break in his breath. She tilted forward, balancing on his wide shoulders, brushing his lips with hers and his chest with her nipples, the sensation shooting into her wet, wet groin. 

It seemed like he had had enough too. His hands moved to her pants, his eyes still asking permission, the big dummy. She assaulted his mouth, scraping his nipples and earning herself a groan. In a blur of movements, he got rid of her pants and his, leaving her naked to his gaze and him to hers. For the first time in her life, Felicity was speechless. Half-naked Oliver Queen made her wet. Naked Oliver Queen was from another dimension completely and it wasn't even his erection she was thinking about, although that in itself was very very impressive and she could understand why so many women had gushed on and on about him. It wasn't that. It was the litter of scars on his thigh and pelvic bone that she looked at now, her heart aching for him, for so much pain he had been through. 

Oliver stood frozen, letting her see the scars she had never seen before, letting her take it in. Felicity's fingers brushed over them lightly, feeling the mottled skin and he gasped. She looked up at him, so vulnerable right there and wrapped her arms around him, just hugging him like she had wanted to for so long. His hands hovered hesitantly for a second before engulfing her in his arms, and his erection pressed into her butt. She knew he needed this, needed to make love to her.

So, she lay down on her back, taking him with her, and spread her legs, cradling him exactly where he wanted to be craved.

"Felicity," he started, the question on his lips making her smile slightly.

"We can play later. But I need to know how good it feels having you inside me now, Oliver."

His eyes darkened and holding her gaze tight, gripping her hips while she gripped on his forearms, he descended right into her heat, with excruciating slowness.

One inch. Her breath hitched, stuttering like her heart. It was finally happening. His eyes remained on hers.

Another inch. She could see the disbelief, the joy, the tears in his eyes. His eyes remained on hers.

Another. Her palms became clammy, nipples hardening even more, as she felt her walls expand and stretch to accommodate him. His eyes remained on hers.

Another. The sweat beaded on his skin. His swollen lips parted. His eyes remained on hers.  

Another. He felt so much bigger than he looked, which was big. So big. His eyes remained on hers.

Another and another and another and she didn't know how long it took him to completely bury himself inside her, but he did and she felt fuller than she had ever been. It felt so right. So, so right and so perfect.

She raised her hand to cup his face, staring him deep into the beautiful soul that he just never saw and knew this was the moment. "Oliver?"

"Felicity," he returned her whisper, too afraid, even now to break the moment.

"I love you."

Oliver blinked, once, twice. She saw his eyes widen slightly in disbelief before they clenched shut, a small errant tear escaping the corner of his eyes, dripping onto her. His mouth trembled, his jaw working to keep it in control as he stayed frozen above her. She let him have this, let him process this, let him believe this. Her hands moved through his hair.

Suddenly, Oliver pulled back his hips and slammed back into her without warning, the sudden movement making her pulse skyrocket, a loud yelp escaping her mouth. She looked at him with wide eyes as he opened his own, baring everything he was right to her in that moment. His huge hands covered her entire face and his eyes bore into hers, the intensity as frightening as it was right.

He pulled his hips back again and slammed harder than before, building the pressure inside her monumentally.

"I love you so fucking much!" his hard voice rasped above her. He slammed back again, "I love you."

And with every pull, every slam, every rotation of his hips, he tattooed an "I love you" into her hair, her skin, her lips, her neck, her nipples. Everywhere. Her eyes were now rolled back into her head, closed as stars burst behind them with every time he hit home, the pressure building to a crescendo inside her, her breasts shaking against his chest with every thrust, their skins slicked with sweat as he moved and moved and she moved with him, right there with him. 

He suddenly twisted his hip and hit her g-spot so hard her mind blanked out, her mouth open in a silent scream as her walls quivered all around him, clamping and holding on for dear life as she came and came. 

He kept pistoning his pelvis right against her, his speed picking up as he became more frantic and hitting her spot every time. Another orgasm began before the first one was finished and she felt like she would explode from the intense pressure inside her. Her head started shaking frantically, her eyes tightly shut and she screamed over and over again.

"Oliver. Oliver. Aah. Oliver. Ah. Oliver."

She couldn't recognize the noises coming from them anymore. She kept coming all around his cock and he still kept moving, not letting her come down at all, triggering one orgasm right at the tail of another. 

She couldn't take it anymore. She gripped his shoulders, her face burning from his beard as his hand flicked at her clit for the first time and her mind blanked completely. Her scream went on and on and on, stars bursting behind her close eyelids like never before, her walls squeezing him so hard that he thrust into her one more time, before spilling himself inside her with a hoarse "Felicity" and collapsing on her, completely spent. 

Felicity was done. She was so out, barely conscious, that she could not feel anything except her throbbing, sated, and sore vagina, and his weight pressing on top of her. Her entire body was trembling with the after shocks, quaking under him as her breathing slowly returned to normal. 

She opened her eyes to the candle-lit room, staring at the ceiling, and ran her fingers through his hair.

"I would have said 'I love you' way sooner if I knew that was going to get me an orgasm marathon," she muttered.

She felt him chuckle, before he started pulling back and she stopped him with her legs, still wrapped around his hips. He was still inside her.

"I would have married you sooner if I knew it would get you to say 'I love you'," he whispered, his eyes so tender on her face.

She blinked. "I don't feel married."

Oliver frowned slightly, "How does being married feel?"

She looked at him with a salacious grin. "A little more orgasmic, I guess."

He didn't say anything, but she felt him slowly harden inside her, his eyes darkening again, eliciting a moan from her. How could he recover so quickly? She bit her lip.

"In that case," Oliver said softly, flexing his hips into hers, "you will be very married to me before you leave this bed."

And then, he proceeded to marry her, again and again and again. Right into the morning. Till she passed out from exhaustion. And it was just her wedding night. 

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing full smut. What did you think?
> 
> Say hi to me on Tumblr. I am _supersillyanddorky06.tumlr.com_


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